Luck of Clarence Jackson

Twelve years ago, Clarence Jackson was a prospering Phoenix, Ariz., businessman. He owned an entire city block with only a small mortgage remaining. On the block stood a bar and a large supermarket, which he and his wife operated. There were also a few stores, houses and a gas station, which he rented out. Jackson figured the whole package was worth at least $250,000, and there was some still-vacant land on which he had just decided to build a motel. Things were looking good. In his wildest nightmares, Jackson could not have guessed what luck, lawyers and the law were about to do to him.

It began with $1,500 worth of power tools ordered from Sears, Roebuck on an installment basis. As far as Jackson was concerned, the tools never worked properly, and after months of complaints and $900 in payments, he told Sears that he wanted his money back or the equipment replaced. When he stopped his payments and would not let the tools be reclaimed, Sears sued him for the unpaid $625.59; he countersued for his $900. Sears won, and he appealed. There the matter rested, at least for Clarence Jackson.

Quiet Sale. But without directly notifying Jackson, Sears's lawyer, Paul Primock, quietly got a court order for execution on the judgment. To satisfy the debt, the sheriff was directed by Primock to seize title to Jackson's property and sell it. The sale was just as quiet, and Paul Primock, ostensibly acting for Sears, was allowed to buy all of Jackson's buildings and acreage for $647.71. It was all done so discreetly that Jackson knew nothing about it until eleven months later, when he tried to borrow money and the loan company discovered that he had no property to borrow against.

It took two years before Jackson's suit to recover his stores and land was decided by the Arizona Supreme Court. He won, but in the meantime, no one had made the mortgage payments. More than $37,000 was due, and the insurance company that held the mortgage called for immediate payment of the entire amount. Jackson, who had no source of income but his property, had no cash. He sold the property he had just won back for $54,000 in cash and 160 acres in the desert west of Phoenix.

The cash went to pay off his debts and legal fees. All he was left with was a nearly worthless piece of desert.

Ineligible for Welfare. Living in a small cottage that belonged to his son, Jackson now pinned his fragile hopes to a $220,000 damage suit against Sears. But he soon learned that the suit would not hold up, because in order to sell the land, his lawyers had signed away his right to sue in connection with any of the previous land transactions. Now his situation was becoming desperate. Nearing 60, he was unable to find regular employment. Because he owned land (the desert which no one would buy), he was ineligible for welfare. He didn't qualify for unemployment insurance because he had been self-employed.

He finally got a construction job with Otto Linsenmeyer, one of the lawyers who had won his first case against Sears-Primock. But the job lasted less than six months, and Linsenmeyer refused to pay part of the wages that Jackson thought he was owed. Jackson went to court once again, eventually won a $2,300 judgment. He has yet to see it though--and probably never will because Linsenmeyer seems to have no attachable assets. It was all too much for Jackson's wife, Billie, and after 40 years of marriage, she left him. "We didn't have a fight or an argument or a dispute," says Jackson spiritlessly. "I just couldn't feed her. I don't blame her. She could take the ups, but she couldn't take the downs."

Jackson was certainly down. The unemployment office still refused to recognize his eligibility for compensation because Linsenmeyer had appealed the judgment, leaving Jackson technically unable to prove his employment. He was told, however, that in order to keep his claim alive he would have to refile it every week. He had a pickup truck, but it needed five tires and work on the engine. So for 100 straight weeks, Jackson hitchhiked the 28-mile round trip between his cottage and the city to re-enter the fruitless unemployment application. The rest of the time he tended the vegetable garden that fed him--until it died this spring from lack of fertilizer and insecticide, leaving him completely without resources.

No One to Recover From. "Jackson's trouble," says a sympathetic lawyer who has been in and out of the case, "is that he sat on his duff right up until the last minute. In his blustering frontier way, he didn't figure anything could happen to a guy of his wealth over so small a sum owed." Now, in all likelihood, there isn't anyone for him to recover from any more. Primock is dead, and Sears has already successfully contended that it did not know of or endorse any of Primock's actions. Besides, Jackson no longer has any of the records. The county attorney borrowed them last year in an effort to help--and just about finished off any further Jackson suits by losing the entire carefully amassed collection.

Four weeks ago, Clarence Jackson got his first break since he ordered the tools from Sears. He was back in the supermarket business, having landed a $1.40-an-hour job as a carry-out boy.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.